
wet
leaves
kiss
landing
crows
the
weight
of
sky
tears
plucking
them
off
the
trees
wet
leaves
kiss
landing
crows
the
weight
of
sky
tears
plucking
them
off
the
trees
and with the flash of lightening my heart stopped the anguish of a thousand needles in my arms the guilt of surviving what others had not came to me in a night of bad dreams
it’s always by the river where there is pain and fear flanked by genuine love created like a diamond is through tons and years of pressure
in the dream its always cold like a movie with a storm showing something deeply wrong earning us that satan comes trotting to destroy us
the thunder speaks in deep cracks shooting through the canyons filled with rage pouring through the vessels of my soul in darkness my pupils open wide gaping for any light but my consciousness goes under
and that white flash slips through the glass again to retrieve me from catatonia’s grace and prick me with memories of all those years wasted by the river’s bed
like a tree in the dead of city
tough skin is what i need
to think about myself
as standing tall and without bend
tickling the sky with my leaves
tough skin is what i speak
through the chirps of tawny birds
and the billions of bugs’ marching feet
along the branches of my trunk
Leonard sang of Him a broken sailor.
a sheppard in a foreign land long lost.
me a foreigner in my own iced soul.
always stomping on black soften thin ice.
wondering if He and me have thin soles.
and if we were Him would we get thorny crowns.
or would the thorns on our sides be our heads.
He stands there watching for eternity.
the state of my people eternal too?
for bread is not enough we need love too.
will You come to us on earthly matters.
at some point we’ve become judges all here.
the court of man is densely packed with noise.
Leonard sang of Him a broken sailor.
they treat me any kind of way
thirteen pounds of furry muscle
they demand as they stare at me
guilt me with otherworldly cuteness
i beg and i plead my very soul to keep
for a headbutt or a tail hug
to no avail
i rush into the kitchen room
they like sentries cold in their eyes of jewel
manipulate me to open their favorite chow
and place hers on the dinning table
he satisfied to be served on the counter tops
she green gold black red
mighty swift so small is she
her wings sing out loud
few places i get to fly where nectar is plenty at dawn beyond the fog at the foot of the hills trumpets of flowers are hard to find have flown a mile industrial towers are where my forest is buried reduced to beg to borrow instead from flowers not wild that came from soulless bottomless mills Dzunuk’wa’s ornate companion was i teacher of the happy psyche freedom lover wild as thunder yet gentle like spring rain on tender ferns the vines of my Creator sky have turned to hardened wires criss crossing dividing my stars my wings fearless beating like the heart that dies so that new hearts burst out in glee through out the meadow floors of our collective imagination
today i placed a
stone upon your head and i
was a child again
if
you
crack
my
heart
open
a
light
will
spring
out
mitosis
begins
you have now become
my comfort fire and scent
watching prayers float
she’s here again
my breath she
takes by force
fear her grip
my mind bending
soul hanging on
pulse pounding hard
tears all dry
moist hands shaking
thoughts race away
pupils open black
what is wrong
i silently ask
rituals mantras dissipate
falling into fog
again the silence
of spirit prevails